


Tending Wounds, New and Old

by connerluthorkent



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: 5x11, Apologies, Canon Compliant, Episode: s05e11 They Did What?, Eye Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 05, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 11:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20545043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connerluthorkent/pseuds/connerluthorkent
Summary: Ed and Oswald have a heart-to-heart while Ed tends to Oswald’s eye.





	Tending Wounds, New and Old

**Author's Note:**

> I do not consent to my work being hosted on any unofficial apps. 
> 
> The obligatory wound-treating scene. 
> 
> Unbeta'ed, as always, so any and all mistakes are my own.

Ed had half-carried Oswald into the abandoned pharmacy after dragging him away from the battle, hands flitting from his back to his arm to around his shoulders as they stumbled the several blocks to get there, steadily supporting him the entire way.

Once inside, Ed rushes them over to the pharmaceutical counter, clearing it off with a long sweep of his free arm. He makes to boost Oswald up onto it but then pauses, thinking better of it and just lifting him up by the waist, Oswald letting out an extremely undignified squeak of surprise as Ed gently places him on the countertop. 

“Stay here,” Ed instructs firmly, as though Oswald has any choice but to do just that. 

Then he rushes into the store’s disarrayed shelves, so swift his movement borders on frantic. Oswald can hear him rummaging through the wreckage of the store as he presses his handkerchief against his eye, a spike of blinding white pain making him sway. He grips the edge of the counter with his free hand, clenching his teeth to steady himself. Then Ed is back, a bright green flash rushing towards him, looking almost comical on those long, gangly legs of his as he skids to a stop in front of him.

“Take this,” he says, handing Oswald some over-the-counter painkiller and a dusty water bottle.

Oswald wrinkles his nose. 

“You couldn’t procure something a bit stronger?”

“Most everything has been picked over, and I worry anything more would only serve to disorient you. Not to mention, I’m not entirely sure how it would interact with what you already take for pain.” 

“I don’t take much these days,” Oswald quips, but swallows the pills without further protest. 

Ed lays a tube of antibiotic ointment and a bandage roll on the counter by Oswald’s thigh, and then pulls a clean handkerchief from his pocket. 

“Let me take a look,” he says, nodding to Oswald’s face. 

From this vantage, they’re eye-to-eye, even with Ed standing at his full height. Ed’s worried dark eyes bore into his as Oswald slowly uncovers the injured eye.

Ed flinches at the sight of it, Adam’s apple bobbing as he visibly swallows.

“That bad?” Oswald asks, feigning a lighthearted tone in a weak effort to keep the nervousness out of his voice. 

“No! No,” Ed reassures unconvincingly, “it’s just…” 

Ed’s lips contort, a myriad of warring emotions flashing across his face in rapid succession, too quick for Oswald to decipher. He opens his mouth as though to speak, but then snaps his lips shut again just as quickly. 

“It—it’s fine,” he finally says hesitantly, sounding no more convincing than he had back at the barricade. 

He turns his focus solely back to Oswald’s eye, grabbing the ointment off the counter.

“Let’s just try to get you cleaned up.”

Ed cups Oswald’s chin, holding his face steady in one hand as he reaches to clean his wounded eye with the other. Oswald follows Ed’s movements with his good eye. A delicate line forms between Ed’s eyebrows as he furrows his brow in concentration, dark eyes trained steadily on Oswald’s face, unwavering as he studies his injury carefully. Ed is leaned in so close to him Oswald can see the dark, delicate sweep of his eyelashes, feel the heat of his breath ghosting across his skin. Oswald swallows, his heartbeat fluttering under Ed’s careful scrutiny.

Ed swipes gently at Oswald’s bloodied face. 

“Ow!” Oswald whines, jerking back from the sting of the antiseptic.

Edward’s grip tightens on Oswald’s jaw, holding him in place. 

“Hold still,” Edward chides.

“I am doing my very best, Edward!” Oswald snaps, churlish. 

Ed winces in sympathy. 

“I know,” Ed says, apologetic. “I just don’t want to do anymore damage than I already have.”

Oswald’s expression changes, looking simultaneously annoyed and sympathetic. 

“Oh, Ed,” he chastises, “not that again.” 

Ed looks him in the eye, clenching his jaw, expression steely. Then he’s rattling off the riddle as though on instinct. 

“I may only be given, but never bought. Sinners seek me, but saints do not. What am I?”

Oswald lets out a weary sigh. 

“I don’t know, Ed, what?”

“Forgiveness.” 

When Oswald only stares at him blankly, he continues. 

“I’m asking for yours.” 

Oswald quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Whatever for?” he asks, playing coy.

The look Ed gives him is positively deadpan. 

“Oh, this?” 

Oswald gestures to his face, waving a dismissive hand.

“Ed, I already told you, there’s no need. Really, think nothing more of it.”

Ed lets out an exasperated huff.

“No, not for that.” 

At Oswald’s confused look, he continues.

“I mean, yes, for that, but also—” 

Ed takes a belabored breath, steadying himself. He’s taken a step back from Oswald, task at hand momentarily forgotten as he draws up to his full height. 

“You said...you said you hadn’t been a good friend.”

Ed begins pacing in front of him, Oswald tracking his movements with his one good eye. Oswald is struggling to keep up, both literally and metaphorically. Months ago, he’d said that months ago, he realizes, back when Ed had just started work on the sub. But Ed is barreling on, whether Oswald can follow along or not. 

“But…” Ed pauses, shoulders slumping as he confesses, “I wasn’t a good friend either. I was a terrible friend.” 

Oswald makes an abortive gesture with his hand, trying to head Ed off, but Ed catches his wrist in one hand, stilling him.

“Oswald!” he barks, scolding. 

Oswald jerks in surprise.

“Please,” Ed continues, voice softening, “please let me finish.” 

“Alright,” Oswald says hesitantly, disentangling his arm from Ed’s grip and gesturing for him to go on.

“I...apologize. On the dock, you said you trusted me.”

“Ed,” Oswald huffs out a laugh, because, honestly, that _damn_ dock, “you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You saved my life,” Ed explains.

Oswald blinks at him expectantly. Ed sighs, frustrated.

“And I turned right around and betrayed you,” he says, flourishing his hands for Oswald to follow along. 

“Oh,” Oswald says, “that.”

“Yes,” Ed says, all but rolling his eyes. “That.”

Oswald swallows, tamping down a treacherous pang of hurt at the memory. He had worked very hard in the past nine months to put that all behind him in the name of their renewed partnership, such resentments only momentarily flaring when he and Ed had run into Lee the previous night. 

But he’d be damned if he’d let such feelings jeopardize their fragile alliance. He had smothered them out last night, and he could smother them out now.

“Ed, that was so long ago—” 

Ed holds up a hand, cutting him off before he continues.

“Not so long,” Ed sighs, “and that’s just one of a number of things I should probably apologize for.” 

“Ed,” Oswald says, feeling bold as he grasps at one of Ed’s hands, “it’s forgotten.”

“I don’t want it to be forgotten,” Ed counters. “I want it to be _forgiven_.”

"How about this? I forgive you," Oswald says, tentative. "If you forgive me."

The corners of Ed's mouth quirk up in a knowing smile.

“Deal.”

They share a smile, Oswald so caught up in the genuine warmth in Ed’s eyes that he fails to realize he’s still grasping Ed’s hand. When he glances down and sees their fingers entangled, he drops his hand immediately. 

“As for this,” Ed says, gesturing at Oswald’s eye, “thank you.” 

Ed’s expression is so serious Oswald’s traitorous heart falters in his chest.

“You’re—you’re welcome, Ed,” Oswald stutters, flustered by the sincerity in Ed’s face. 

“Now,” Ed says, all business, “let me finish taking care of your eye.”

He picks up the forgotten antibiotic, carefully resuming dabbing it over the raw flesh of Oswald’s face.

Oswald purses his lips, managing to hold steady this time. It still stings, but there’s something soothing and almost...hypnotic about the surgical precision with which Ed’s hands sweep delicately over his face, fingers as deft, wrist as steady as when he’s playing the piano. 

Ed swabs at a particularly sensitive spot, and Oswald hisses, knuckles white as he curls his fingers tightly over the countertop.

Ed’s face clouds over, expression darkening with a sudden flash of indignant fury. 

“I cannot _believe_ those bastards left us,” he fumes quietly, voice low and dangerous. “We stick our necks out for this city time and again, and this is the thanks we get? Abandoned once more, all but left for dead, by the oh-so morally sanctimonious _Captain_ James Gordon and his motley crew of merry men.” 

Ed’s breath is ragged, visibly frothing with rage, his words boiling with an undercurrent of poisonous resentment. The suddenness and vehemence of his seething tirade takes Oswald off guard. 

“At least you’re here,” Oswald says without thinking, blaming the head injury for both the slur of his words and the abrupt wave of nostalgic sentimentality that comes over him, "always patching up my wounds."

Ed’s shoulders sag, all the fight instantly draining out of him, the flash of vulnerability in his eyes startling Oswald once more. 

"When I'm not the one inflicting them," he replies, voice tight and thin. 

Oswald shushes him. 

“I thought we agreed to let that go.”

“Forgive, not forget,” Ed counters. 

They lapse into contemplative silence then, both preoccupied as Ed mechanically finishes cleaning Oswald’s wound, body on autopilot. 

Task completed, Ed plucks the bandage from the countertop and gently wraps it around Oswald’s head, cinching it tightly in the back. Then he retrieves Oswald’s broken glasses from his pocket and carefully slips them back onto his nose, tucking a tuft of hair behind Oswald’s ear as he secures them in place. 

“How does it feel?”

Oswald tilts his head, testing the security of the bandage as well as his limited vision. He grits his teeth only slightly, the pain in his eye dulled to a steady throb.

“As good as it can.”

Ed pulls back to regard his handiwork.

“That’s the best I can do for now,” he says, apologetic. 

He averts his eyes from Oswald’s face, avoiding his gaze. Oswald reaches out and grips his sleeve, giving his wrist a reassuring squeeze. 

“Thank you, Ed,” he says, voice overly sincere.

Ed looks up at him, expression softening. All the air seems to go out of the room as they stare at each other, holding each other’s gaze just a beat too long. Then Ed leans forward and presses a kiss to Oswald’s cheek, a chaste brush of lips so light and quick Oswald fears he might have imagined it. 

Ed pulls back, shooting him a grin that borders on cheeky.

“Anything for you.” 

Oswald’s heart clenches at the words, his breath hitching in surprise. 

“Now, come on,” Ed says, voice authoritative as he springs back into action, “let’s get you down.” 

Oswald stares at him, still dumbstruck as Ed steps once more into his personal space. 

“Put your arms around my shoulders,” he instructs, ignoring Oswald’s gobsmacked expression as he leans forward. 

Oswald does as he’s told, locking his hands behind Ed’s neck as Ed slips his arms once more around his waist, gently setting him back on his feet. Once Oswald is firmly back on the ground, they waver for a moment, frozen in a loose embrace, a pantomime of a dance.

Oswald lets go of Edward’s shoulders, clearing his throat. 

“We’d better get going,” he says, gesturing towards the door. 

Ed watches him for a moment too long before looking away and shaking his head.

“Yes,” he says finally, as though coming out of a trance, “of course.” 

Ed reaches for Oswald automatically, steadying him with one hand at his elbow and the other in the small of his back, instinctively guiding him as they tentatively make their way to the door. 

“Ready?” Ed asks, expression steely once more as they prepare to make a break for it.

Oswald can’t help the small smile that creeps onto his face. 

“As I’ll ever be,” he answers glibly, the truth dying on the tip of his tongue.

Ed gives a sharp nod and then pushes open the door with his shoulder, spilling them back into the war-torn streets of Gotham once more, ready to face whatever the city has to throw at them. 

Because, the truth is, with Ed at his side...Oswald always will be.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to imagine this piece coming immediately before my other fic “You’d Better Kiss Me,” I encourage you to do so.


End file.
